Groundhog's Night: The Letter
by Leona Esperanza
Summary: The long-delayed follow up to Groundhog's Night, told from Tony's POV.


_Wednesday, February 9th - 2:42pm_

After settling Jimmy as comfortably as possible into his bed, Tony left him to morphine-induced dreams and wandered out into the living room, looking for anything he could find to quietly distract himself from his thoughts. Seeing the pile of envelopes reminded him that he hadn't gone through his mail for nearly two weeks, since the missing weapons case had started. Casting one last look toward the bedroom door, Tony settled down on the couch and picked up the stack.

 _Let's see… junk mail, junk mail, cable bill – better pay that quick – junk mail, coupons, donation request… Hang on, what's this?_

The plain white envelope had no postmark. It simply read, 'Tony.'

 _That's Jimmy's handwriting. When did this get here?_

The same feeling of dread that had been Tony's near-constant companion for the last several days wrapped its cold hands around his chest. Very carefully, he set the envelope on the coffee table and crossed the room to where he kept his crime scene gear when he was at home. Years of experience had taught him it was best to be ready to go at a moment's notice. He would have liked to say it was because he was concerned about the quality of evidence degrading with time, or he was just that eager to catch the perpetrators. That was all true, but it wasn't actually the reason. The real reason could be explained with one word - Gibbs - and anyone who'd ever worked with the man would understand instantly.

Donning latex gloves, Tony carefully opened the envelope and removed the folded sheet of paper within. The envelope went into an evidence bag. He didn't know if his precautions were necessary – if only Jimmy had handled the envelope, they would find no traces of the NSA agents who had forced Jimmy's involvement with the case – but it was better to be safe than sorry. Then he unfolded the letter and started to read.

* * *

 _Tony,_

 _If everything goes well tonight, you'll never see this – I should be able to get home and tear it up before you do. If it all goes bad, you'll also never see this. It's if things go badly for me but not for you that I'm writing this. If I don't make it home, there are some things I want you to know._

* * *

 _Saturday, February 5_ _th_ – _5:13am_

Tony grabbed onto the door handle as his boss executed a hard right turn at a speed that should have flipped the agency sedan end over end, and probably would have if it had been anyone else driving. But the laws of physics had apparently given up where Gibbs' driving was concerned. Behind them, the black FBI car lost ground as its driver took the turn at a much safer speed, but it caught up again a few moments later. No one wanted to be late to _this_ party, least of all Agents Fornell and Sacks.

 _NCIS, FBI, ATF, and Homeland Security,_ Tony thought, reviewing the list of agencies that had an interest in their current case. _The best agents of each, but it still took an anonymous tip to tell us what's really going on with the stolen explosives. Unbelievable._

That anonymous tip was still bugging the crap out of Tony. Sent directly to the fax machine in the NCIS bullpen – and who would even know that number, much less that two of the four teams were congregated there that night? – the handwritten note held just enough information to steer them in the right direction, and not one iota more. That was bad enough, but there was something about the handwriting itself that was making Tony's brain itch. Clearly the writer had tried to disguise their handwriting, but Tony could still swear he'd seen it somewhere before…

But there was no more time to think. Another right turn, into the parking lot of a seven-story office building, and the car screeched to a halt as a running figure was caught in the headlights, racing away from the building. Tony flung his door open almost before the car stopped, pulled his gun and aimed at the figure while cars from the other agencies raced into the lot, cutting off the man's escape.

"Federal agents! Stop right there!" Tony shouted, along with at least a dozen law enforcement officers, all of them leveling their guns at the tall, slender man whose face was only now visible –

"Don't shoot!" the man cried out, throwing his arms into the air to show he was unarmed. His voice was high-pitched and panicky; he was clearly terrified. "Don't shoot, I'm with NCIS!"

"Jimmy?" Tony's jaw dropped because, yes, that was the NCIS autopsy assistant – and the man Tony loved – who now stood frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. "What the hell?"

"Down on the ground!" Ron Sacks ordered from the next car over, echoed by several other agents from different teams. Clearly none of them recognized Ducky's young assistant, and why should they? There had been no dead bodies linked to this case, so no need for Ducky or Jimmy to get involved. But that begged the question...

"Palmer! What the _hell_ are you doing here?" Gibbs shouted, gesturing for the others to lower their weapons or at least stop shouting, neither of which they did. While Tony couldn't blame them, it still irked him. Jimmy wasn't a threat, he was clearly surrendering – though why he was here at all was well beyond Tony's ability to fathom – and Gibbs was vouching for him.

"Gibbs!" Jimmy turned, squinting, in their direction. Staring directly into the light as he was, he probably couldn't make out individual faces. "There are armed men –"

And then time slowed as Tony saw movement behind Jimmy, at the open ground-floor window of the office building. A dark figure leaned out of the window, and light glinted off of something in his hands as he brought them up –

"Jimmy!" Tony screamed, bringing his own gun up. Everyone was shouting now, though Tony couldn't tell if it was because they'd seen the man in the window or because Jimmy was disobeying their orders to get down on the ground. All it would take was one shot – and the man at the window was about to take it – and Jimmy would be caught in the crossfire. " _Jimmy, get down!"_

It was like a slow-motion scene from an action movie. Jimmy turned, one hand coming up to shield his eyes from the bright headlights as he searched for Tony. There was the sharp crack of a gun being fired, and suddenly Jimmy was thrown to the ground, so hard and so quickly that he couldn't even try to break his fall. Tony stared in horror at the bright red stain spreading across the back of Jimmy's coat; at Jimmy's glasses, lenses shattered, laying not half a foot from his head; at Jimmy's unmoving form, sprawled out on the cold, unforgiving asphalt...

* * *

 _If I were to tell you how I know what I know, you'd think I'm crazy, and I'd like to leave you with a better impression of me than that._ _Please just trust me when I tell you that I knew what I was getting into, I knew the risks, and I chose to do it anyway._ _The alternative – losing you – was something I just could not live with._

 _These few months that we've been together have been one of the best times of my life._ _We've had our share of tough times, but overall, I've never been as happy as I have been with you._ _Thank you for all the times you've been there for me, all the times you've made me smile – all the times you've made me feel like someone special._

* * *

 _Wednesday, February 9th - 5:38pm_

"Tony? Hey, you alright?"

Jimmy's voice, still rough from the ventilator tube and now made worse by sleep, caught Tony's attention and drew him back to the present. He set aside his laptop – he'd finally got around to paying the bills – and stood up.

"Didn't I tell you to stay in bed?" he gently chided Jimmy as he guided him to the couch.

"I got shot in the shoulder," Jimmy replied. His face was still pale, but not as bad as when Tony had first seen him in the ICU after the surgery. "My legs are fine."

"Your legs might be fine, but they're still being steered around by someone under the influence of some pretty heavy painkillers." Tony sat down next to Jimmy, on his left side so he didn't risk jarring the injured shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, now. It's amazing how much sleeping in a real bed helps." A slight frown crossed his face. "If Gibbs still doesn't know about us, what did you tell him when you brought me to your place?"

"He suggested it," Tony told him, and watched as surprise lifted Jimmy's eyebrows. "I was going to, but he beat me to it. We didn't want to leave you alone in case those bastards come back."

"Tony." Jimmy bit his lower lip nervously. "I'd rather be here with you than at home alone, don't get me wrong, but I think I would have been okay."

Tony took Jimmy's hand in both of his, staring into his eyes intently. "I can't take that chance. I can't lose you." Frustration, tinged heavily with guilt, surged through him. "If I'd been there that night –"

"No," Jimmy interrupted, shaking his head. "Don't do this, Tony. There's no way you could have known what was going to happen."

There was something about his expression, his tone of voice, that caused Tony's gut to tighten. "Did you?"

"What?"

"Did you know? You woke me up that night, you said you were okay, you just wanted - did you _know_ something was going to happen?"

Jimmy looked down, his teeth still worrying at his lip. He'd never been good at hiding the truth from Tony - or at least, Tony had _thought_ he knew all of Jimmy's tells. He'd also thought that Jimmy was done trying to hide when something was wrong, but apparently he'd been mistaken.

"Jimmy," Tony said gently. He tilted his head down, trying to catch Jimmy's eyes with his own. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I - I couldn't," Jimmy whispered, his voice breaking painfully. He still wouldn't look at Tony. "I couldn't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" Tony made sure to keep his voice soft. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"Of course I do." Now Jimmy looked up, his hazel eyes troubled. "I trust you. But it wasn't like that. I mean - believe me, if it all could have been fixed that easily, I would have told you everything." He squeezed Tony's hand with his own, but Tony could feel the tremors that Jimmy was trying to still.

"I still might have been able to help," Tony said, trying not to make it sound like an accusation. "We could have figured something out together. Get you away from the NSA agents, get a warning to Gibbs -"

"No, no, it wasn't - I couldn't -" Jimmy shook his head, a panicked look in his eyes. "I'm not supposed to talk about this."

"Jimmy, it's okay. They can't do anything to you now." Tony carefully put an arm around Jimmy's waist and tugged him closer. "Why couldn't you tell me then? What did they say would happen if you did?"

"Tony, I - I can't talk about it." Jimmy's voice sounded even worse now, the tension making his throat tighten. "Please, you need to let this go."

Tony closed his eyes, unable to control the pained expression that crossed his face. "I can't," he said, remembering again the sick fear that had struck through him when Jimmy crashed down onto the asphalt, the terrorist's bullet tearing through him. "You could have _died_ that night, and I still don't understand how or why this happened. I don't understand why you couldn't trust me to help you. I don't understand why you can't trust me now. Let me help, Jimmy. I can't protect you if I don't know what we're up against. I need you to tell me. Please."

Jimmy shook his head, gripping Tony's hand even tighter. "Tony, don't do this," he begged. He'd gone pale again; the hand that Tony held felt slick with sweat. "I can't – I'm sorry, I really can't, you'll - I _can't_ -"

Tony had never seen Jimmy try so desperately to avoid a conversation, not even when Tony had first confronted him about the nightmares Jimmy had been so ashamed of. No - Tony _had_ seen Jimmy like this, once before. During the captivity together that heralded the beginning of their relationship, Jimmy'd had to describe the kidnapping to Tony, who'd suffered a blow to the head and had no memory of the event. Jimmy's account had been as clear as one could wish for from a kidnapping victim, except for one particular area - when the kidnappers had tried to force Jimmy past his paralyzing fear of getting into the trunk of their car by threatening to further hurt Tony, and then had followed through on their threat. Jimmy's irrational response - to attack the man who dislocated Tony's shoulder - had resulted in Jimmy's first black eye of the day, the loss of his glasses, and - worst of all - being picked up and bodily thrown into the trunk with Tony.

Jimmy had tried several times to gloss over that part of the story; and when Tony finally forced the issue, it triggered a panic attack. Now, as Tony took in Jimmy's distress, remembered his unshakable conviction that Tony and the team would have died that night, and considered it along with what little he knew of the NSA's involvement… "What did they say, that made you go along with it?" He kept his voice low and even. He pulled his hand away from Jimmy's and touched his face with his fingertips. "What did they do?"

Jimmy quickly looked away, shaking his head in denial – then he froze, as his gaze fell upon the evidence bags still lying on the coffee table. His jaw dropped; if it were possible for him to become paler, he would have done so. "You found – oh, God," he whispered, looking at Tony with wide eyes. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, you weren't supposed to see that."

"You told me at the hospital that you knew you might get hurt," Tony reminded him. He leaned forward, touching his forehead to Jimmy's; his eyes closed briefly in pain. "You didn't tell me you didn't actually expect to survive the night."

"I - Tony, no, it wasn't like that." Jimmy grabbed Tony's upper arm and squeezed tightly. "This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this. I thought I was going to be able to get back here first and get rid of that. I didn't really think you'd ever see it, but - I couldn't take the chance that something would go wrong and I wouldn't be able to - to say goodbye. I couldn't do that to you. So I wrote it, just in case - but I really thought I'd get back here to tear it up. I didn't think about what would happen if I got hurt - I didn't think I'd get hurt at all, actually -"

"Is that what they told you?" Tony asked. "If you did what they wanted, no one would get hurt?"

 _"_ What?" Jimmy seemed startled at the question. "No! No one - no one said anything like that. It was my mistake. I thought I'd be in and out before anyone showed up, but it wasn't the same and it took me too long to figure out -" He abruptly stopped talking, shaking his head before looking down at the floor again.

Tony held his tongue, wanting to see if Jimmy would drop any more details; but Jimmy refused to cooperate, going so far as to close his eyes to avoid Tony's questioning gaze.

"Okay," Tony said softly, when it became apparent that Jimmy wasn't going to take the initiative to restart the conversation. "I won't - I'll _try_ not to push so much," he amended his promise. "But there's one thing I have to ask." He waited until Jimmy looked up and met his gaze. "Why are you so sure _we_ would have been in danger that night? We didn't even know where to go until your note told us what to look for."

"But you figured it out," Jimmy said. "Even without the note, you would've figured that out on your own, and you would have been there when the building exploded. Even if you somehow managed to avoid the bombs on the doors, there were too many other ways for everything to go wrong. I - I can't tell you everything from that night, I can't tell you how I know, but I _know_." Jimmy squeezed Tony's hand. "Please - I need _you_ to trust _me_ on this one. What I did - it was the only thing I could do to get all of us out of there alive. And - and there was a chance I wouldn't make it, but I knew that. And I was okay - well, no, I wasn't _okay_ with that, but - but if _you_ didn't make it, I - I don't think I could have ever moved on from that. Especially if I had a chance to stop it, and I didn't take it. I couldn't have lived with that."

"Jimmy..." Mindful of his injured shoulder, Tony carefully pulled Jimmy into his arms. "Christ - I was so scared we were gonna lose you." He took a deep breath, felt it catch in his chest, and saw Jimmy's eyes widen in surprise. "The surgery took so long, and the doctors couldn't tell us if you were gonna make it - they couldn't get you stabilized, your glucose level was way too high, and then it was way too low, and - all I could think was, I can't lose you, not like this..." He lifted a shaky hand to cup Jimmy's face gently. "It was - it was like a nightmare, like the ones you used to have about me. The ones you couldn't wake up from, remember? And I couldn't wake you up this time, either, you were out for so long - I was starting to think you wouldn't wake up at all..."

"Oh, Tony," Jimmy whispered. "It's okay now. It's over." He only had one arm to use, but he wrapped it around Tony's shoulders and held him as tight as he could. "It's over, and we're both here, and we're both gonna be okay. Okay? I promise."

Tony let his head fall onto Jimmy's good shoulder. "I feel like it's Opposite Day today," he said, trying to make light of the fact that he was about to shake apart in Jimmy's embrace. "You've got the bad shoulder, and I'm the one who can't stop thinking -" He couldn't hold back the sob, but he struggled to finish the sentence before he broke down completely. "I can't stop seeing you - there was so much blood - and you were still trying to warn us -" His throat closed on the words, and he had to take a couple of deep, shuddering breaths. "Shit, I'm sorry, this isn't helping -"

"Yes, it is," Jimmy interrupted, but gently. "You've been holding this inside for - what, a week, almost? But you don't have to anymore." He pressed a kiss to the top of Tony's head. "You don't have to pretend to be okay right now, honey. It's okay. I've got this. I've got you." Jimmy tightened his arm around Tony. "You've been taking care of me. Now it's my turn to take care of you. That's how this works, remember?"

It was an echo of the conversation they'd had that night, right before Gibbs called. _Jimmy knew,_ Tony thought; and the realization shattered the last of his composure. He buried his face in Jimmy's shoulder, choking back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm him. Jimmy kissed him again, whispering "I've got you," and that was all it took to turn Tony into a shaking, sobbing wreck.

Jimmy knew. Jimmy knew, all through that last conversation, that he was going to risk his life that night to protect Tony and the team, that he might not come back. He knew, and he'd told Tony, in the only way he could, that he'd accepted that risk. _"I'm done with having nightmares,"_ Jimmy had told Tony, after Beckett had said or done whatever it was that had guaranteed Jimmy's silence. _"Or at least I'm done being scared of them."_ Because it wasn't a nightmare anymore, it was real; and Jimmy had just wanted to hold Tony one last time before going forth to face it.

So Tony let Jimmy hold him now, grateful beyond words that it hadn't been the last time, after all.

* * *

 _If I were to tell you how I know what I know, you'd think I'm crazy, and I'd like to leave you with a better impression of me than that._ _Please just trust me when I tell you that I knew what I was getting into, I knew the risks, and I chose to do it anyway._ _The alternative – losing you – was something I just could not live with._

* * *

Later that night, as he helped Jimmy get ready for bed, Tony made a decision. Setting down a glass of water and the bottle of painkillers on the bedside table, he waited until Jimmy sat on the edge of the bed, then knelt down in front of him and put his hand on Jimmy's knee.

"Hey." He waited until Jimmy's puzzled eyes met his. "I wanted to talk to you about something, but I don't want you making a decision while you're high on the meds. Are you feeling well enough to wait a few minutes?"

"Yeah, sure." Jimmy nodded. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine. Just – I'm tired of having to hide this – us, I mean – from everyone." Tony reached for Jimmy's hand, twined their fingers together. "I want to tell Gibbs about us."

"Okay."

Tony waited. "Okay?" he finally prompted. "That's it?"

"Yeah. I've been thinking about it, too." Jimmy tugged on his hand; at his urging, Tony climbed onto the bed next to him and carefully wrapped his arms around him. "And I've been thinking about what to do if Gibbs has a problem with it. If he won't bend Rule 12 for us – then I'll make it so Rule 12 no longer applies."

"You –" Tony shook his head. "Jimmy, no. Gibbs is _my_ boss. _Your_ boss doesn't have a problem with us. If anyone's going to leave NCIS –"

"– It'll be easier for both of us if it's me," Jimmy insisted. "Think about it. If you leave NCIS, how can you guarantee you'll get another job in D.C.? With any of the other federal agencies, there's the risk that they'll want you to work out of another location. Even if you stay with NCIS and just ask for a transfer, it's almost certainly going to be somewhere else – maybe even afloat again. And I'm stuck here until I finish med school, so I can't follow you. But I can get another job here, especially with Doctor Mallard's recommendation."

"But you shouldn't have to," Tony objected.

"The only other option is to go over Gibbs' head to Director Vance. You were right about there not being an official rule that coworkers can't date, unless one is actually the other person's supervisor. I looked it up in the online employee manual earlier today. But I don't really think that's the right way to handle it."

Tony frowned. "When did I say that?"

"What?" Jimmy half-closed his eyes, as if trying to remember; then he shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with his good hand. "Sorry, you didn't, actually. I, uh… I had a lot of weird dreams in the hospital. We've actually had this conversation a couple of different times, at least in my head."

"Really?" Tony gently rubbed Jimmy's back as he tried to steer the conversation back on topic. "Maybe we're just borrowing trouble, though," he said. "We could just forget about it for now, not tell him anything."

Jimmy shook his head. "No, we need to do this. I think it would be better for him to find out from us than to be surprised by it some other way." He leaned his head against Tony's shoulder, eyes closed, relaxing against him. "We should give him the benefit of the doubt, though. Tell him, see what he says… then figure out what to do about it…" The end of the sentence was punctuated by a yawn.

Tony reached for the bottle of painkillers on the table. "And on that note, I think it's time for you to get some sleep." He handed Jimmy one of the pills, then held out the glass of water. "We can talk more about this in the morning."

Jimmy swallowed the pill, then drained the glass. "No need," he replied as Tony helped him lay back against the pillows. "Talk to him tomorrow. Whatever he says, whatever he does – we'll make it work." He yawned again, clearly fighting a losing battle to stay awake.

"We will," Tony promised, tucking the blankets around Jimmy. "Don't worry."

"'m not the one worrying," Jimmy murmured in protest.

"No, I guess not." And after all Jimmy had been through - what was a stupid rule, compared to that? Maybe Tony should follow Jimmy's example. He leaned over and kissed Jimmy's forehead. "Go to sleep, honey. Tomorrow's another day."

Jimmy blinked sleepily up at him. "Promise?"

Tony smiled. "I promise," he said, and followed it up with another kiss, a light peck on Jimmy's lips. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

* * *

 _Please give my love – in a totally platonic way, of course – to Tim and Ziva and Gibbs._ _Hold Abby when she cries and let her know I think she's one of the strongest people I know, and I know she'll get through this alright._ _Tell Dr. Mallard I have been proud to work with him and I'll be listening whenever he has a story to tell – so he'd better only tell the good ones about me!_

* * *

Jimmy was still sleeping when Tony left him in Ducky's care and under McGee's protection the next morning. Under normal circumstances, Tony would have been fine with just Ducky there; but ever since those NSA agents took it upon themselves to involve an NCIS employee – not even an agent! – in a case that wasn't even under their jurisdiction, he felt edgy without at least one armed and trustworthy agent standing between Jimmy and potential danger.

Ducky had warned him, and Tony agreed completely, that they couldn't keep this up forever. Jimmy's objections hadn't been too strenuous yet, but it was only a matter of time before "cautious" turned into "stifling." Still, until they knew for sure that Agent Beckett and his associates had truly left D.C., as the director of the NSA had promised Vance, they didn't want to take the risk of leaving Jimmy alone.

Coming to a stop at a red light, Tony lightly drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he considered the best way to tell Gibbs about his relationship with Ducky's assistant, without risking his job – or having his head slapped clean off his neck.

" _Well, Boss, the bad news is that I broke Rule 12 – I'm dating a coworker._ _The good news is that I'm still following Rule 18._ _I didn't ask permission, I'm here seeking forgiveness."_

He shook his head. _No, that makes it sound like we're doing something wrong, and we're not._ _They're Gibbs' Rules, not the Ten Commandments - and even Gibbs breaks his own rules sometimes._

Tony pulled onto M Street. As he approached the gate, he saw Ziva's Mini Cooper pulling in just ahead of him. He followed at a more sedate pace – that is, his passage didn't cause fellow agents and coworkers to hug the walls of the parking garage in terror. By the time he pulled into a parking space near hers, she was leaning against the back of her car with her backpack slung over her shoulder, waiting for him.

"Good morning, Tony." They fell into step together, heading for the elevator.

"Morning, Zee-vah," he responded, but his heart wasn't really into it. She must have noticed, because she put her hand on his arm, pulling him to a halt.

"You look worried. Is Palmer okay?"

"He's fine," Tony reassured her. "Sleeps most of the time, because of the pain meds. Easiest protection detail I've ever pulled." He resumed walking, hoping Ziva would take the hint and let it go.

Of course, given the nature of their relationship, she wasn't about to do that. He should have realized that – as he should have remembered Ziva was a trained spy, an expert at ferreting out information.

"So are you worried about telling Gibbs?"

His head snapped to the right to look at her before he could school his reaction, but at least he had better control of his mouth. "Telling Gibbs what?"

Ziva stopped walking again, and the expression on her face was so unexpectedly serious that Tony paused as well.

"He knows anyway, Tony. We all know."

He felt the familiar, sardonic smile crawl across his face – the defensive expression of the class clown persona he'd been trying so hard to drop, these last few years. "What do you think you know, Zee-vah?"

It had taken a lot of arguing with himself to work up the courage to out himself to his boss. Tony had hardly given a thought to the rest of the team, and how he would tell them, but Ziva saved him the trouble.

"While you've been working protective detail, McGee and I have been going over every bit of evidence we could find, trying to figure out how Beckett got to Palmer." She stared at him, but he wasn't reading whatever message she was trying to send him. She sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Including Palmer's apartment."

Tony's eyes widened; how had he not seen _that_ coming?

"We only found two sets of fingerprints," Ziva continued. She could have teased, could have _tortured_ him with this, and perhaps in other circumstances she would have. But those other circumstances wouldn't have included the memory of hours spent waiting anxiously to learn whether Jimmy would pull through the surgery, and another day and a half waiting for him to regain consciousness - another anomaly, like Jimmy's wildly fluctuating glucose level, that the doctors couldn't explain. The friendly antagonism between Tony and Ziva only went so far; Ziva wasn't _cruel_. "Yours and Jimmy's. And they were _everywhere_ – including the bedroom."

"Ah… well…"

"Including the headboard. The nightstand... the box of condoms on the nightstand... the lube..."

"Oh, Christ." Okay, so maybe Ziva wasn't above a little teasing after all. Still, it could be worse.

"Abby's still running the DNA, but -"

It was definitely worse. "All right! Okay!" Tony waved his hands wildly to cut her off. "Enough already. It's true."

"How long? Since the kidnapping? Before?"

"It was the kidnapping." Tony glared at her to hide his nervousness. "If I hear any 'closet' jokes…"

Ziva shook her head, the mischievous smile softening into a real one. "No more jokes, Tony. Just… I'm happy for you. For you both," she added.

They resumed their interrupted walk to the elevator. "So Gibbs really knows?" Tony asked.

"I think he knew even before Abby ran your prints." Ziva punched the button, then leaned against the wall, looking at Tony. "He didn't seem surprised when she told him."

Tony groaned. "I was hoping to get to him first." He ran a hand through his hair. "So much for _that_ plan."

The elevator door opened. Tony and Ziva stepped aside to let two agents out, then started in – only to come face to face with a stone-faced Gibbs.

"Boss! Hi!" Tony didn't intentionally try to hide behind the bright smile and enthusiastic voice; it just always seemed to happen whenever Gibbs was likely to be upset by something he'd done. "Nice day, isn't it? Couldn't stay cooped up at home, had to stretch my legs. You know, maybe I should take the stairs, I could use the exercise –"

"Get in, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered abruptly, jerking his thumb toward the interior of the elevator. Tony meekly complied, while Ziva simply nodded to Gibbs, then turned toward the stairwell to make her way to the squad room.

By the time Gibbs hit the emergency stop switch, Tony had managed to regain his composure. He leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms, and jumped right in, not willing to let Gibbs have the first strike. "So, Ziva says you knew. For how long?"

Gibbs wasn't the type to play coy. "Since we pulled the two of you out of that farmhouse," he replied.

"That long? I can't believe you didn't say something."

"I was waiting for you to tell me."

Tony winced. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was disappointing the Boss. "Well, there was Rule 12…"

"Yes. There is."

Tony took a deep breath and pushed off from the wall. This was it, then. Time for the showdown. "Is it going to be a problem?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him. "You tell me."

Tony lifted his chin slightly. "It hasn't been for the last five months."

"For the last five months, you two have had to hide your relationship. Once your secret's out, you can't take it back."

"It's out, anyway." Tony shrugged his shoulders. "Ducky's fine with us. Ziva said she's fine with us. Abby's going to have a field day with this, and Probie – well, I'm going to take some teasing there, and I deserve it – but I don't think he'll have a problem with us, either. Vance officially can't have a problem with us, as long as one of us doesn't get promoted over the other – and since he's in Autopsy and I'm a field agent, that's not going to happen. Now, if it were me and Ziva – or me and McGee…"

Tony looked steadily at Gibbs. "But it's not," he continued. "It's the Autopsy Gremlin and the Very Special Agent. Unless you have a problem with it."

"And if I do?" Gibbs' poker face was flawless.

Tony sighed. "Then it'll be the Autopsy Gremlin and the _ex_ -Very Special Agent. Or the ex-Gremlin and – you get the picture. We're still arguing over who would jump ship, if it came to that."

Gibbs seemed mildly surprised. "When did it get that serious?"

"It's been that serious for a while. I just didn't realize it until I had his blood on my hands." Tony looked down at his upturned palms, long since scrubbed clean. "There's something about watching the person you love almost die that makes you see just what they mean to you."

"And he feels the same way?"

In answer, Tony pulled his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it, reaching inside for the evidence bags he'd brought with him. "Found this last night, mixed in with my mail," he told Gibbs. "They must have let him write it that night. I asked Probie to see if he could find anyone else's prints in my apartment, but with everyone going in and out of there I'm not sure there'll be anything left to find. We weren't treating my place as a potential crime scene."

Gibbs nodded absently as his eyes scanned the letter, visible through the plastic bag. "He say anything else to you about that night?"

Tony shook his head. "Just keeps saying he can't talk about it. But he's absolutely convinced we were going to die if he didn't go along with what they wanted."

"You sure we wouldn't have?"

"I don't know, Boss. The look on his face, though…"

He couldn't find the words to describe it – that was more McGee's line of work. But if Tony were to take a stab at it, he'd say it was some kind of bizarre cross between haunted, devastated… and totally, frighteningly determined to do something about it, no matter the cost to himself. Not quite fanatical, but… "It's almost like he'd literally seen it happen," he said.

"Well, he has, once."

"Huh?"

"The Frog." When Tony didn't respond right away, Gibbs continued. "We all thought that was your body. They didn't figure it out until halfway through the autopsy."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "'They?'" he repeated. "I thought Ducky always performed agents' autopsies solo."

"He used to," Gibbs said. "That was the first time he let Palmer help." He watched Tony closely as he added, "Palmer insisted."

"Shit." Tony leaned back against the elevator wall and covered his face with both hands. "I didn't know. I didn't really think about it. I got back, and everyone was joking about taking my stuff..."

And Jimmy had been part of the autopsy. Not knowing the truth - that Tony was alive, that the horribly burned body in the car had been a decoy - Jimmy had insisted on being there. They were just friends at the time - though "just" friends hardly described the loyalty and support that Jimmy had shown for him, ever since that day when Gibbs walked out on the team and dropped the responsibility for the MCRT on Tony's shoulders. Jimmy had helped him carry that burden; he'd been Tony's rock, his strength, his conscience, whenever Tony needed him. And when he thought Tony was dead, Jimmy had stood by his side for what he thought was the last time...

"I didn't know," Tony repeated, dropping his hands. "He never told me." Then he shook his head and looked at Gibbs again. "I've asked him about what they said or did to get him to go along with them," he said. "He won't tell me, keeps insisting he can't. He almost had a panic attack last night when I kept asking, so I had to back off. But - why him? I just don't get it."

Gibbs scowled. "I talked to Beckett," he said, his annoyance at the NSA agent evident in his tone. "He wouldn't tell us anything about how or why they approached Palmer. Vance tried to find out more, but someone higher up is causing interference. Whatever Palmer got himself into, it's classified at the highest levels."

Tony clenched his fists in frustration. "Boss, I'm almost positive they first got to him while I was there that night. He was fine when I showed up, but after we went to bed, something changed. He woke me up right before you called. I asked if anything was wrong, and he said he was okay, but there was something off about the whole thing. But I had to leave before I could find out what." He started pacing the confines of the elevator. "He had some trust issues in the beginning, but we got past that. So for him to hide that from me - they had to have made some kind of threat, something that scared him so much he didn't even try to tell me what was going on. Something he thinks they could still follow through with if he talks."

"If they were there that night," Gibbs pointed out, "then they knew about you two."

"Yeah, and don't think I haven't considered that," Tony said. "If he thought they'd do something to me..." He sighed and let himself collapse against the wall of the elevator. It made sense. Jimmy was braver than most people gave him credit for; but if they'd held Tony's safety over his head, or the team's, there was no way Jimmy could have stood against that kind of pressure. "Fuck. That has to be it."

"And he's not likely to change his mind now, if he thinks keeping his mouth shut is the only thing that's keeping you safe from them." Gibbs thrust the evidence bags back at Tony. "Take those to Abby, see if she can find anything. Then take Ziva back to your place and send McGee back here. Til we know they're gone, I want an armed agent with you two at all times."

"Boss?"

"They threatened Palmer - and you - and they got into both of your apartments," Gibbs pointed out. Then his mouth quirked in a half-smile. "Besides, it's not like you two are going to be getting up to much anyway, til his shoulder heals." He reached out and slapped the emergency switch, setting the elevator into motion again.

After the turn their conversation had taken, Tony had almost forgotten about the Rule 12 issue. "So we're good?" he asked.

"You've kept it from being a problem this long." Gibbs fixed him with a stern glare. "You keep doing that, you'll be fine. Screw it up, though, and you and Palmer will have to make that decision."

The elevator doors opened, and Gibbs stepped out, hitting the button for the lower level as he went. "Don't let Abby keep you too long," he warned.

The doors closed again – and for the first time in days, Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

Tony was fully expecting Abby to rip into him for not disclosing his relationship with Jimmy to her first. He figured that would be the first thing out of her mouth. So he was surprised when he walked into the lab and all she did was run up to him and catch him up in one of her enormous hugs. No mock anger, no teasing – just a hug strong enough to crush ribs and pop his eyes out of their sockets. At least, that's what it felt like.

"Abs," he squeaked when he couldn't take it any longer. "Oxygen… need… oxygen…"

"Oh, come on, oxygen is so over-rated." Abby let him go, then towed him over to her workstation so she could talk and work at the same time. "How's Jimmy doing?"

"Better than before," Tony told her, pulling over a stool so he could sit down while Abby flitted from machine to computer to machine, working her forensics magic. "Still sleeping a lot, still drugged to the gills half the time…"

"Poor Jimmy." Abby shook her head. "I still can't believe he tried to disarm a bomb all on his own!"

"He didn't try, he did it, Abs," Tony reminded her. Then honesty took over – "Though really, it was a crappy design. When your whole setup is dependent on a 9-volt battery…"

"No kidding! The stuff on the doors was better, but still not professional quality. I wonder why they didn't have the Marines who stole the explosives set up the bombs?"

Tony shrugged. "I've been off that part of the case for a while, Abs," he said. "Which brings me to the reason I'm here." He reached into his backpack again, pulling out the evidence bags to hand over to her.

"You mean you're not here to give me all the hot details on yours and Jimmy's sex life?" Abby pouted.

Tony had to grin. She was being so… Abby. "Not today," he said. "I need you to see if you can lift any prints off of these."

Abby smiled back as she took the bags; but the smile faded as she started to read.

"Oh, my God. Tony –" she looked up at him, and he could see her eyes brimming with tears. "This is so sweet. And horrible. He -" She hesitated, her fingers brushing over the plastic protecting the letter. "Look how bad his handwriting is at the end. He really thought those might be the last words he'd ever get to say to you."

"I know." Whenever Tony tried to imagine Jimmy writing his farewell note under the watchful eyes of that bastard Beckett, it made him feel sick. But that was nothing compared to the thought of Tony holding Jimmy while he bled to death in the cold light of dawn, and then coming home and finding that letter...

"Oh, Tony..." Abby carefully set the evidence bags aside, then stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, far more gently this time. "It's okay. He's gonna be okay."

"I know." Tony had been so afraid to believe it when the doctors had first told them Jimmy would pull through; but now, finally, it was starting to sink in. "I know, Abs. But - thanks."

Abby held him for a moment longer, then gave him a little squeeze and let him go. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He slid off the stool. "I need to get back to him, though. Can you let me know if you find anything?"

Abby stood up straighter. "If there's anything to find, I'll find it, don't you worry."

"Thanks, Abby. I knew we could count on you." On more than just the print work, but he knew he didn't have to say it out loud.

"Of course." Abby smiled at him. "Now get out of here. You've got a boyfriend waiting for you." She leaned toward him and planted a big kiss on Tony's cheek. "Pass that on to Jimmy for me, will ya?"

"Will do."

* * *

 _Please take care of yourself, Tony._ _Don't be afraid to ask for help from your friends._ _(Yeah, I know - believe me, I know._ _But if I can do it, you can, too.)_ _Don't grieve too long, because life's too short and I don't want you to miss out on any of it._ _If you think of me every now and then and smile, that's all I need._ _Oh, and watch_ The Birds _on my birthday – I snuck a peek at your calendar._ _I wanted to see it with you, so make sure you remember._ _(It's okay if you forget, though – I'm bad about remembering dates, too.)_

* * *

Though he'd left it behind in her lab, the words from Jimmy's letter still burned in Tony's mind. One part in particular had him puzzled. Tony hurried up the stairs and into the squad room, wanting to check one last detail before returning home.

Ziva stood up from her chair when she saw him. "Are you ready to go?" she asked.

"One minute, Zee." Tony sat down behind his desk, but didn't boot up his computer. Instead, he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and picked up his Classic Horror Films Trivia page-a-day calendar.

"Tony?"

Ignoring her for the moment, Tony flipped through the calendar until he found what he was looking for. There it was – the entry for Jimmy's birthday. Just like Jimmy had said in his letter, the question for that day referred to the Alfred Hitchcock classic, _The Birds._

What Jimmy hadn't mentioned – what wasn't supposed to be there at all – was the sticky note on which Tony had written his most recent systems password for his work computer.

 _Son of a bitch._ _Was he trying to tell me something?_

Everyone – well, maybe not McGeek, but everyone _else_ – had their password written down somewhere they could access it easily, somewhere that wouldn't be obvious to anyone else. Well, they had to. NCIS Computer Security had set such impossible requirements for passwords, and made everyone change them so often, that no one could possibly remember their password for more than a week or two before it was changed again. They'd just had another system-wide password update a couple of days before Jimmy had written that letter and gone off on what he thought might be a suicide mission. Tony always changed the location of his password note; this time, he stuck it in the calendar on Jimmy's birthday page, figuring that no one would recognize the significance of the date even if they should find it.

True, Jimmy could have looked at Tony's calendar anytime during the last month and a half since Tony bought it. But for Jimmy to mention it in his farewell letter, after having been shanghaied into an operation by the NSA…

"Tony, is something wrong?"

He shook his head. No sense in alarming anyone else if what he suspected wasn't true. He'd ask Probie to check the access logs for Tony's computer, to see all the times someone had logged in since the last password change. Tony had hardly been in the office since Jimmy was shot; there wouldn't be that many accesses.

In the meantime, there was the question of what to do with the calendar he was holding in his gloved hands. Now that it appeared his most recent hiding place had been compromised, he couldn't leave it here; but neither did he want to destroy possible evidence. Finally, he decided to take it down to Abby. She could check it for prints, and he knew she wouldn't tell a soul about the sticky note – although she'd probably tease him for it.

"Don't ask," he cautioned Ziva as he pulled yet another evidence bag out of his backpack and dropped the calendar into it. He sealed it, then grabbed the backpack and stood up. "Let's go."

* * *

 _I know you haven't had a chance to meet my family, and I'm sorry about that._ _They know I'm seeing someone and that we've had to keep it a secret, but I think they think you're a Navy guy and we'll get in trouble over Don't Ask, Don't Tell._ _(I've tried to explain that NCIS isn't subject to that, but it took me two years to convince them that I don't work for CSI, so, you know, you pick your battles.)_ _I'll understand if you don't want to, but I hope you'll consider introducing yourself to them and telling them about us._ _I know they'll love you, and I hope you like them, too._ _And if you ask just right, Mom will show you all kinds of pictures of me as a kid._ _(Actually, it's not that hard, she'll do it at the drop of a hat, whether you want to see or not._ _At least I'll already be gone so I won't die of embarrassment._ _)_ _(Sorry, that was probably in poor taste, never mind.)_

* * *

Later that night, Tony sat on one end of his couch, Jimmy's head in his lap. Jimmy was laying on his uninjured side, eyes closed, letting Tony run his fingers through his hair in a soothing gesture. Across the room, Ziva sat in a chair, reading a book and pretending not to notice the looks that her partner was giving to _his_ partner.

They were supposed to be watching a movie – _The Princess Bride_ , one of Tony's all-time favorites – but halfway through, Tony noticed that Jimmy kept falling asleep, only starting awake when the sound would grow louder during the more exciting scenes. So Tony muted the sound – he had the dialogue memorized anyway – and let Jimmy doze while he let his own thoughts drift.

All of his bright ideas today had turned out to be dead ends. McGee's review of the access logs for Tony's computer, cross referenced with security camera footage from the bullpen, showed that Tony had been at his computer for every login attempt since his last password change. McGee was still going through the camera footage at high speed, stopping to examine anyone who came near Tony's desk since the day he'd hidden the password in the calendar, but he hadn't found anything suspicious so far.

Oddly enough, McGee hadn't yet found any sign of Jimmy being anywhere near Tony's desk in the two days after the password change, either. Gibbs' rules said there was no such thing as coincidence, and Tony's gut was telling him the same thing. But the evidence just wasn't there to support Tony's theory, and he didn't want to upset Jimmy by continuing to press for answers after he'd promised not to. He just had to trust that if it was important, he or McGee would figure it out.

Abby had texted Tony just a little while ago, letting him know that only his prints were on the calendar, and only his and Jimmy's prints were on the outside of the envelope. Jimmy's prints were the only ones to be found on the letter itself, and McGee hadn't found any suspicious prints in Tony's apartment. That didn't necessarily rule out the presence of NSA agents in Tony's apartment - they could have just worn gloves, after all. And Jimmy seemed to feel perfectly safe here; but then, he thought he'd be okay back in his own apartment as well, and Tony was now almost certain the agents had been there. Tony still didn't know exactly what they'd told him - though on that last, he had a pretty good guess...

 _They used me as leverage,_ Tony thought for the - well, he'd lost count of how many times. It just kept going round and round in his head. _They convinced him I was going to die - or threatened to kill me themselves - if he didn't do what they wanted._ _So he did it._ _He knew it might kill him, but he did it anyway._

It wasn't that Tony hadn't known how brave Jimmy could be when the situation called for it. It wasn't that Tony hadn't known that Jimmy loved him. It was that, as he'd told Gibbs earlier, Tony hadn't realized just how much _he_ loved _Jimmy_ until it was almost too late. If Jimmy had died that day, it would have left a hole in Tony's heart that would never heal over. The horror he'd felt when he saw the bullet rip through Jimmy's shoulder still made Tony's stomach twist; and the memory of Jimmy's blood on his hands –

Tony didn't realize he'd clenched his fists – both fists – until Jimmy's whimper recalled his attention to the fact that he still had his fingers tangled in Jimmy's hair. "Shit, I'm sorry, Jimmy," he whispered, immediately letting go and pulling his hand back.

Jimmy started trying to sit up, which didn't go at all well until Tony slid his hand under Jimmy's good shoulder and helped him upright. Tony had taken Jimmy's glasses off some time ago, so Jimmy peered short-sightedly at him. "What's wrong?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Tony glanced over at Ziva, but she was still apparently absorbed in her book. "Nothing's wrong," he said. "Everything's fine."

Jimmy smiled tiredly. "You're a terrible liar, Tony," he said. Then he, too, glanced Ziva's way. "Come on," he said, nodding toward the bedroom door. "It's your turn for coffee, but you can bring it tomorrow. It's probably not a good idea tonight, anyway." Jimmy caught Tony's puzzled look and explained. "You look like you could use someone to talk to. And maybe I can't go back to work for a while yet, but I can still listen." He leaned forward and lightly kissed Tony's cheek.

Tony smiled in return, but he knew it didn't reach his eyes. "Okay," he said, standing up and pulling Jimmy after him. Keeping a hand on Jimmy's arm to make sure he stayed upright, he turned to Ziva. "I'm going to put the Gremlin here to bed. Help yourself to anything you can find."

"Okay." Ziva marked her place in her book with a finger and looked up at them. "Good night, Jimmy. I'll be here if either of you need anything."

"Thanks, Ziva," Jimmy said as Tony led him toward the bedroom. "G'night."

Turning his head to look back over his shoulder, Tony mouthed the words "Thank you" and got a smile and a wink from Ziva in return.

As he helped Jimmy undress for bed, Tony couldn't help but think of when he'd done the same thing Friday night. Of course, that had been a completely different situation. Showing up unannounced at Jimmy's door after a full week of almost no contact between them, Tony hadn't been surprised - or disappointed - when they'd ended up in Jimmy's bedroom not five minutes later. Tony was still pretty sure that Jimmy couldn't have faked his way through that part of their evening if he'd been at all worried about his or Tony's safety. But as he'd told Gibbs, by the time Jimmy woke him up, just a few minutes before Gibbs' phone call, something had changed. At first, Tony had thought it might have been a bad dream - perhaps not one of the terrifying nightmares that had plagued Jimmy after their kidnapping, but something that disturbed Jimmy enough to reach out to Tony for comfort.

But Jimmy had denied that anything was wrong. _"I just wanted to hold you,"_ he'd said. _"I don't know when we might get a chance to do this again."_ He _could_ have been referring to their hectic schedules; but even then, Tony had suspected otherwise, though he hadn't had the time to dig deeper. He would never have guessed that Jimmy was preparing himself for a possible suicide mission, but now, Tony couldn't see their interaction that night as anything but a poorly-veiled farewell. Jimmy had been saying goodbye, and Tony had just left him...

"Hey." Jimmy touched Tony's cheek lightly, bringing his attention back to _this_ bedroom, this night. "What's going on in there?" he asked softly.

"Sorry. I just got a little distracted," Tony said. He balled up Jimmy's shirt in his hands and tossed it toward the clothes hamper, then guided Jimmy to sit down on the edge of the bed. "I'll get you a glass of water." He started to turn away, but Jimmy snagged his hand.

"Tony." The earlier traces of levity were gone; Jimmy's eyes were serious. "The meds can wait. Sit down and tell me what's wrong."

"I'm fine, Jimmy." When Jimmy opened his mouth to protest, Tony held up a hand. "Honestly, I'm fine. I was just… thinking."

"That looked like more than just 'thinking,'" Jimmy said. He brushed his fingers through his hair. "Felt like it, too."

Tony winced - he hadn't meant to cause Jimmy more pain. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's okay. Just tell me what's wrong."

Tony gave in and sat down next to Jimmy. "I just keep thinking… I don't know what I would have done if you'd been killed."

Jimmy squeezed Tony's hand. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I hate that this is hurting you like this."

Tony snorted in disbelief. "You got shot, and you're feeling sorry for _me_?"

Jimmy's eyes flicked down briefly; but then he looked up, a crooked smile on his face. "Well, I feel a little sorry for me, too," he said.

"You ever scare me like that again –" Tony bit back the rest of the sentence, not wanting to start an argument.

"I know. It sucks, doesn't it?" The smile on Jimmy's face faded away, replaced by what Tony could only describe as a haunted expression. "I know what it feels like to see someone you love in danger."

Tony winced again; that was the subject of Jimmy's repeated nightmares, a few months back. "I'm sorry –" he started to say.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Jimmy waved his hand in negation. "I'm just saying, I know what you're going through. I understand." He reached out and touched Tony's face with gentle fingers. "But it's okay now. The building didn't blow up, and we're both still alive. That's what's important, Tony. That's what you need to focus on now. Not on what could have happened."

One corner of Tony's mouth lifted upwards. "You're getting pretty good at throwing my own words back at me, you know that?"

"They're damn good words." Jimmy smiled at him. "And you were right. If we waste all our time freaking out over what might have been, we won't get to enjoy how it actually _is._ " His fingers slid down Tony's cheek and neck, then caught the collar of his shirt and tugged lightly. "So come over here and kiss me already, would you?"

Tony slid closer on the bed. "You need to get your rest," he reminded Jimmy.

"I will," Jimmy promised. "Just kiss me."

So he did.

* * *

 _I don't really know what else to say, except for the really important thing that I was saving for last._ _So here it is._ _I love you, Tony, with all my heart._ _Being kidnapped with you was the best thing that ever happened to me – not that it was fun at the time, but because all the really great things that have happened since would never have happened if not for that._ _The only thing I regret is that, if you're reading this, it means we didn't have more time together._

 _I wish I could come up with something really poetic and inspiring to end with, but I've never been good at that kind of thing._ _So I'll have to borrow someone else's words._ _Lao Tzu said, "Being loved deeply by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."_ _If I have the strength and courage to do what I have to tonight, it's because you helped me find it, and for that, I am more grateful to you than you'll ever know._

~ _Jimmy_

* * *

Whew! This only took six years to write, revise, tear completely apart, revise some more, and finally give in and call it done. Thanks for reading!


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